


Something New

by Koocatoo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Exhibitionism (kinda), Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, They're In Love Your Honor, no angst only joy, no beta pls be gentle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29211417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koocatoo/pseuds/Koocatoo
Summary: Hinata wants to do something special for his and Oikawa's anniversary. Why not film their intimacy and cherish the memory forever?Or: Let's have a bit of soft, domestic OiHina with a load of spice thrown in.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 2
Kudos: 58





	Something New

It started with a simple text message:  _ “I accepted an offer from ASAS São Paulo! I’ll be back in Brazil next season!” _

Oikawa realizes he shouldn’t have been surprised to hear such big news back then, not after Hinata’s breathtaking displays of expertly honed athletic prowess and flaring, insatiable passion for volleyball during the Tokyo Olympics—medal or not, there was no way he wouldn’t have had offers pouring in afterward.

He had typed out his congratulations accompanied by a  _ mostly  _ sarcastic request to come visit San Juan and buy him dinner “this time”, as if Hinata somehow still owed him for his generosity all those years ago in Rio de Janeiro; as if said shrimp-turned-superstar hadn’t repaid that debt tenfold in the form of sweat and slick streaks of tongue and the kind of white-hot, burning friction that made Oikawa’s mind go completely, defenselessly numb. As if plenty of nights after their reunion in Japan during the Olympics hadn’t ended the same way.

It had taken Hinata nearly four months to find time to follow-up on that request, then only two weeks passed before their next encounter. It quickly became a regular “whenever we’re both available” kind of thing—airfares be damned. Text messages evolved into video calls; conversations peppered with laughter extended well into their evenings; sex became tinged with something more fervent lingering behind the tangling of their tongues. 

Hinata’s single-season contract turned into two, then into three. Somewhere down the line, they became exclusive. Somewhere even further down the line, they became official. 

An extra two years down that same, beautiful thread stretching through time brings Oikawa Tooru to where he is today, standing at the edge of his partner’s kitchen with his arms folded across his chest, expression set with an unamused frown. 

“Skydiving,” he repeats flatly while his lover, lounging comfortably on the living room sofa with his phone’s glare brightly contouring his features, nods with vigorous excitement. 

“Yeah! Doesn’t it sound romantic? What’s wrong with seeing the world from-” Hinata’s eyes flick to the ad on the phone’s screen. “-over four-thousand meters high?”

“Oh, I don’t know, the  _ falling _ ?” Oikawa quips lightly, gesturing to the air as if the ridiculousness of the thought physically manifested itself before him. “Particularly gruesome accidents warranting headlines? The risk of injury? We’re professional athletes, Shouyou, we need to be more responsible than thinking of throwing ourselves out of airplanes.”

“Accidents are rare, and I wouldn’t call them  _ injuries _ , per se.” Hinata muses aloud, biting the edge of his lip that way he does when he already knows he’s in the midst of a losing battle. 

“I consider death to be quite the  _ permanent _ injury,” Oikawa sighs as he strides into the living room, moving to lean himself against the back of the couch behind Hinata to peer at the phone’s screen. After skimming the heavily photoshopped advertisement featuring a picture of a couple much too content with the idea of falling to their potential demise, he reaches a long arm over Hinata’s shoulder and taps the Back button, smirking a little at his partner’s annoyed  _ “Hey!” _

“I’m afraid that’s a hard  _ no _ from me,” he says, resting his chin atop Hinata’s crown of fluffy hair, arms draping casually over his shoulders and grazing across his chest. “Along with your last few thrill-seeking suggestions. What were they? Hang gliding? Scuba diving? I’ll be happy to indulge you after we retire, but for now, pick something else, if you must.”

That isn’t to say he’s afraid to to tackle the more audacious activities Earth has to offer (okay, perhaps skydiving really is a bit much), but quite frankly, he’s tired. His days are full of strenuous physical activity, interviews, travel, promotional shoots, and other tassels hanging off the title of an Olympic-level athlete, and as much as he loves it, puts his all into every piece, even he needs a break. He must be getting old.

Sitting comfortably in his thirties, Oikawa inwardly chastises himself. No, it’s not quite time to use the “o” word, yet.

“If I must,” Hinata echoes the statement with a huff. “As of next month, we’ll be going steady for two years. I think that’s worth celebrating with something a little extra special.”

“I already told you I made reservations at the steakhouse you like.” Oikawa hums, shifting to instead press his cheek against Hinata’s soft orange locks. “And I fully intend to make it a week you’ll never forget.”

It’s true—since the occasion falls on Hinata’s turn to visit, Oikawa has taken it upon himself to ensure the week they designated for themselves will be uninterrupted and undeniably romantic. He’s thought of it all: dinner, flowers, candles,  _ the works _ . Call him corny, but he’s a sucker for the melodramatic flair of the classics. Not to worry, though, he’s well-aware of Hinata’s inability to sit still for more than a few minutes and has a laundry list of (tamer) local activities for them to choose from.

“Besides,” he continues, “we spend enough time traveling for our professions and for each other. Let’s relax together, for once.” He can feel the vibrations of Hinata’s response through his cheek. 

“It’s just, I don’t know, I’ve never…” Hinata pauses, searching for the right words. “It doesn’t sound good when I say it out loud, but I’ve never been in a relationship for this long. It’s special. I want to do something to really commemorate it, you know? Something to look back on.”

Slender setter’s fingers drift up to Hinata’s jawline, where Oikawa guides his lover’s head back to a tilt against the top of the couch’s backrest. Warm chocolate eyes melted with affection gaze at the uncertain expression pulling at Hinata’s faintly tanned features. He leans down to place a soft kiss on the other man’s temple. 

“I assure you, it will be commemorated,  _ mi amor _ .” Another kiss, this time to the nose. “Without life-threatening stunts.” A kiss to the cheek. “Just you.” The corner of his mouth. “And me.”

When Oikawa reaches Hinata’s lips, he kisses him slowly, sensually, lingering over his mouth to really drive his point home. Hinata sighs into their connection, eyelashes fluttering against his lover’s cheeks. 

“Okay,” he breathes when Oikawa finally pulls away, “I’ll drop it.” To punctuate his claim, he allows his phone to slip from his fingers onto the couch cushion. “Now, come here.” Reaching up to slide a hand around the back of Oikawa’s neck, Hinata pulls him in for another, deeper kiss. 

*  * *

For those not fluent in Hinata Shouyou, “dropping it” usually translates to “not bringing it up in front of you anymore but still very much thinking about it and possibly taking action without your knowledge.”

Still, Oikawa doesn’t hear another word about it until a month later, during their week-long anniversary vacation. He’s in the midst of putting a few things away in his apartment the evening of Hinata’s expected arrival when he receives a knock on his door, and soon enough he has a sweatpants-and-hoodie-clad Hinata stumbling into his entry way with a suitcase and a few bags thrown over his shoulder. 

“Shouyou?” Oikawa gawks as he closes the door behind him, eyes flicking to his wristwatch. “You’re early. I would’ve picked you up from the airport.”

“Hey!” Hinata gently places his bags on the floor (why are there so many?) before turning to wrap Oikawa in a bone-crushing hug. “Flight was early, and I figured I’d save you the trip.” He immediately cuts off any attempt at protest by capturing Oikawa’s mouth in a sweet, savory kiss. The brunette melts against him with a resigned sigh, arms wrapping around the smaller man to return the embrace. Of course his ever-unpredictable boyfriend would ruin his attempts at providing perfect hospitality. When their lips part, Hinata rests his head against Oikawa’s shoulder. 

“I missed you,” Hinata murmurs into his partner’s neck, unmoving from his spot like he’d be perfectly content with spending the rest of the evening just like this. 

“And I, you,” Oikawa hums softly, unable to help his fond smile. Hinata smells like tropical lotion and airport and anticipation for a long-deserved personal break from the world of professional sports. He can relate. “Now, are you going to tell me about these mystery items you’ve brought into my home?” He gestures toward the extra black bags Hinata deposited on his floor—one long and slender, the other the size of a small cooler.

Hinata proceeds to hit him with a highly familiar impish grin. “That’s for later.”

Ah, so it’s a sex thing. He can work with that.

“Anyways, I’m gonna shower and change,” Hinata says as he detaches himself from his lover, who with practiced proficiency, keeps the curve of his lips level despite a twinge of excitement brushing the back of his mind. It’s almost time, then.

“Clean towels are in the linen closet, as usual,” is all he responds with as he watches Hinata drag his suitcase into the bedroom.

He waits until he hears water running in the ensuite bathroom before springing into action. 

Long strides take Oikawa to his bedroom, where he first pulls the plush comforter on his mattress halfway down its length to reveal ivory satin sheets—brand new and freshly washed. After taking a moment to smooth out a few wrinkles in the fabric, he opens a dresser drawer to procure a bag of battery-operated tea lights. He flicks on the power of each light and places them upon whatever surface they fit, lining bedside tables and his windowsill. In his arguably most cheesy addition to the romantic atmosphere, he sprinkles real rose petals in varying shades of red and pink around the room with a theatrical flourish. 

He surveys his work with a smug grin cracking his visage. It looks like a scene straight out of an eighties romance film. 

Perfect. 

To complete the look, he dons his own silk robe (because of course he has one), double-checks his hair in the mirror (because of course it has to be flawless), and goes to lurk near the bathroom door to await his partner’s return (because of course he’s got a very specific image of how this plays out in his mind, and he’s ready to  _ pounce _ ).

The shower’s stream cuts off abruptly, and not a minute later does Hinata emerge, bare, freshly clean, and roughly rubbing a towel against his head to dry his hair. 

“Hey, Toor-” Hinata’s words falter when he lowers the dampened fabric to see the fruits of Oikawa’s labor, spikes of orange sticking up wildly atop his head. “-oooh?”

Hands, calloused but soft, trace a languid path around Hinata’s hips from behind, one snaking down his abdomen to just faintly graze across the short patch of hair there, while the other slides up his abs, fingertips tracing each and every muscle as if they’ve never felt them before. Oikawa presses himself against Hinata’s back, silk cool against skin warmed by the recent shower, breath hot against the cuff of his lover’s ear.

He sounds a breathy chuckle when he feels Hinata shiver in his arms.

“I know the decor isn’t quite your thing,” he says, giving the smaller man a gentle squeeze, “but I wanted to set the mood for when I show you just how much these past two years and more have meant to me.”

“Yeah?” Hinata swallows thickly before turning himself around in Oikawa’s hold, dropping the towel on the floor and reaching to rest his hands on his partner’s waist. He peers up through his eyelashes, a salacious glint in his tawny gaze. “And how’re you planning on showing me?”

“Well,” Oikawa purrs, pressing gentle shoves against Hinata’s chest to lead him backward toward the bed, “I’m going to taste  _ every  _ part of you.” He enunciates his words slowly. “Let you know just how delicious you are.” Hinata’s calves hit the edge of the bed frame, and he falls backward into a sitting position atop the mattress. “And then I’ll pleasure your every orifice and make you come over and over until you simply  _ can’t _ anymore.”

Oikawa leans himself over his boyfriend, their lips just a hair’s breadth apart. “How does that sound?”

Hinata blinks, his eyes growing wide. “That sounds perfect,” he whispers, but when Oikawa is about to close the distance, he sits further up rather abruptly. “That sounds perfect! This is perfect!” He flashes a broad, excited grin as he glances around the decorated room. 

“W-well, yes, of course,” Oikawa starts, finding Hinata’s sudden enthusiasm rather… odd. Then again, what can he say? Perhaps he really did hit the nail on the head with this one. “Why don’t you just relax, and-”

“I’ll be right back!” Without further explanation, the redhead nudges his partner out of the way, stands, and bounds out of the room. 

Oikawa stares at the spot where Hinata sat, processing this. An eyebrow twitches.

What the actual  _ hell _ ? He had a whole mood, a whole  _ thing _ going on, and Hinata just  _ leaves _ ? On what  _ planet _ would that be acceptable? Certainly not this one!

With a frustrated huff, Oikawa straightens himself, not even trying to hide his pout when Hinata returns with the two black bags he left near the front door. Whatever is in those bags had better be the keys to the most mind-blowing, godly sex he’s ever had, or he swears-

“So I was thinking,” Hinata begins, crouching down to work at buckles and zippers. “You know how I wanted to do something special for our anniversary?”

“Yes,” Oikawa hisses through gritted teeth. He doesn’t mean to sound upset, but also he kind of  _ does _ .

“I know I was a little overexcited about going out and doing crazy things, so then I started thinking about things we could look back on that were just for us! No travel or certifications necessary. So I thought-” He opens the topmost flap of the smaller bag and pulls out a large, black video camera. “-why not make a sex tape? We could watch it whenever, especially when we’re apart.”

“If you want,” he adds, casting a hopeful glance between Oikawa and the camera. 

Now, Oikawa is a patient man. An absolute saint, if you will. But in this moment he’s having trouble understanding how Hinata’s brain works. 

“You want to make a sex tape,” he states, slowly. “Right now.”

Hinata nods. 

“Right-” Oikawa gestures vaguely to the mess of rose petals and tea lights. “Right now?”

Hinata nods again, less certain this time. “Did I do something wrong? If you don’t want to-”

“Oh, no, it’s just,” Oikawa pinches the bridge of his nose. “I thought we were having a  _ moment _ .”

“We were! It’s cute and romantic in here, so I thought-” The redhead falters, realization washing over his expression, and he casts his gaze to the side. “This probably could have waited, huh?”

Oikawa stifles a scoff. “It could have, but it didn’t.” Making up his mind, he moves to seat himself on his side of the bed, adjusting a pillow behind the small of his back to prop himself against the headboard. Crossing one leg over the other, he waves a hand in Hinata’s direction. 

“Go on, set up your camera since you’ve gotten it out. I’ll wait.” Does he sound snippy? He sounds snippy. It’s fine. This is fine. He’ll indulge his lover in whatever he wants, as he is wont to do.

Hinata hesitates, again glancing between the camera and his boyfriend. “I don’t think I want to. Not when you’re like this.”

Feigning the most innocent of smiles, Oikawa cocks his head to the side. “Like what?” He watches as the other man sighs softly, stands, and pads over to the bedside.

“Like you’re upset,” Hinata begins, resting a knee on the side of the mattress to lean himself over Oikawa’s lap. “Like you’re gonna be all passive-aggressive for the rest of the night.”

Oikawa does scoff at that, pointedly avoiding Hinata’s gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hinata leans in further to force himself into the brunette’s line of sight. “I’m sorry for interrupting our moment, Tooru.” He offers a small smile. “I bet we can bring it back.”

When Oikawa finally looks and finds himself face-to-face with Hinata’s signature big brown puppy-dog eyes, he feels every ounce of his minor agitation dissipate into warm fondness. It works every time. Honestly, his little shrimp can get away with anything. 

“We’d best,” he concedes, reaching to graze the backs of his fingers along Hinata’s jawline. “I can’t let all this work go to waste. Now, hurry up and set up your camera.”

Hinata’s eyes brightened. “So you…?”

“Shouyou,” Oikawa says, a grin spreading across his lips. “We’re going to make the hottest sex tape you’ve ever seen.”

🎥  🎥 🎥

As it turns out, porn filmed from a single, stagnant tripod doesn’t quite compare to some of the more cinematically extravagant pieces available across the internet. 

The following evening, after indulging in a luxurious meal at Hinata’s favorite steakhouse, the couple finds themselves lying across the bed, Oikawa snugly spooning against Hinata’s back while the redhead fiddles with a laptop.

“Okay,” Hinata says, thumbing an SD card into a fitted slot, “let’s finally take a look at this thing.” After opening the video file, he presses Play. 

Oikawa props himself up on an elbow for a better view, his interest piqued. After all, he and his lover had quite the passionate night, and despite his previous reservations about the situation, he’s eager to see it all over again from an outsider’s perspective. Sending suggestive photos and having raunchy video calls is great and all, but  _ this _ should be…

...should be...

...it’s....

… it’s garbage. He can’t see a damn thing. 

The video opens up to display his familiar bedroom, but the dim lighting of the plastic tea candles only allowed the camera to pick up their silhouettes swathed in shadow. They can hear the sounds of kissing and shifting fabric, but visually they’re greeted with a vague dark blob. 

“Noooo,” Hinata whines, leaning forward to squint at the picture with a pout. “It looked fine on the camera’s display!” As if on cue, the picture suddenly loses focus, presenting not only a supposedly sexy blob, but a blurry supposedly sexy blob. “Gaah!”

“Perhaps it can be edited?” Oikawa suggests, a little disappointed, but part of him can’t help just a teeny tiny, selfish bit of smugness, as if this is Hinata’s punishment for his behavior last night.

“I don’t know how to do that sort of thing.” Groaning, Hinata flops his head down onto the bed. “I borrowed the camera from my teammate. I can’t just ask him to help with  _ this _ .”

“You-” Oikawa pauses. No, no he should just ignore that and instead silently lament for his boyfriend’s oblivious teammate whose personal video camera is being used to film pornography.

He gives himself a moment.

“Okay, what if it refocuses later on?” An arm reaches over to drag a finger along the laptop’s touchpad, forwarding the video a few minutes. The scene jumps to what Oikawa recognizes as his own head pressed flush against Hinata’s ass, the image still dark and hazy, but accompanied by slick slurping noises and Hinata’s soft, pleasurable moans. 

“Huh.”

Actually, as much as he’d love to see the detailed visuals, he’s liking this bit. Hearing the little mewls he himself elicited from Hinata’s lips through the computer’s tinny speakers sends a rush of heat down his stomach. Smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, Oikawa rolls his hips against his lover as he hugs him closer, leaning to plant a kiss on his ear—burning red at the spectacle, he notes.

“This isn’t so bad,” he murmurs, watching as Hinata reaches to again adjust the video’s slider.

“Yeah, well, the point is to  _ see _ what was happening.”

As the screen jumps again, the telltale sound of skin rhythmically smacking skin fills the bedroom. Oikawa doesn’t need a colorful display to know he had Hinata lying on his stomach while he roughly fucked him into the mattress. Once again, it’s the noises that grab his attention, namely the grunts and moans of both parties.

Oikawa pales.

“Shouyou.” He swallows. “Please tell me I don’t  _ actually _ sound like that.” The audio must have gotten a little distorted. He’s sure his own moaning is deeper, quieter, more amorous than… whatever  _ this _ is he’s hearing from the video.

Hinata furrows his brow in thought. “No, that’s how you always sound. It’s sexy. Why?” He tilts his head back to peer up at his partner, but upon seeing Oikawa’s flustered, horrified expression, a slow and smarmy grin stretches across his face. 

“If you think this is bad, you should hear yourself when you’re  _ receiving _ .”

Oikawa stares. Hinata snickers.

“ _ Oh, Shouyou _ ~” the smaller man whines, mimicking a comically high-pitched voice. “ _ Fuck me harder~ Aah~ Aah~ ah _ ahaha haha- Ah! T-Tooru, stop!”

Nope. Oikawa’s fingers are already relentlessly digging into Hinata’s sides, seeking out every vulnerable spot he knows of. He’s going to tickle this little shit to death, and then he’ll  _ really _ show him who’s louder in the bedroom. 

His squirming, giggling boyfriend swiftly retaliates, turning their impromptu tickle fight into a wrestling match brimming with laughter and teasing insults and a hefty amount of groping. The laptop clatters to the floor, their carnal cries of yesterday long forgotten as their clothes soon follow suit.

🎥  🎥 🎥

“So.” Hinata swallows his last bite of omelette the morning after. “What if we hire a professional?”

“Hm?” Oikawa is sipping coffee across the breakfast table, idly scrolling through social media notifications on his phone. “Professional for what?”

Hinata leans forward on his elbows, that excited glint in his eye shining like the undying star it is. “A videographer to film us. I know a guy.”

Oikawa nearly chokes, sputtering into his beverage in an equal amount of shock that his boyfriend would even consider the idea and astonishment that the man who stole his heart simply  _ doesn’t let anything go _ .

Well, no, he’s not quite that astonished. This is part of Hinata’s charm, after all.

After gathering himself, he stares at the other man still smiling unabashedly from across the table; the man hardly batting an eyelash at the thought having a stranger (well, evidently not to Hinata) record their most intimate moments; the man so hung up on the notion of being able to take a piece of that intimacy to forever rewatch at his own leisure, it’ll gnaw at his entire being until he finds closure. 

It isn’t the worst idea—even their failed attempt at making a video is its own special kind of erotic, but above all else, if they’re intending to include a third party, confidentiality is the highest priority. Oikawa can’t even begin to imagine the resulting media frenzy if any incriminating footage found its way out onto the internet. Athletes transitioning to the world of adult entertainment after they retire isn’t unheard of, but it’s not exactly the career path he and Hinata are planning to take. They probably wouldn’t hear the end of it for the rest of their lives. 

As he’s weighing the pros and cons (and oh, there are many), Oikawa realizes that if there’s anything he’s learned from Hinata, it’s that sometimes one simply needs to throw caution to the wind and have a little fun.

“Well,” he finally responds after taking a moment to enjoy a long drink of coffee and finish assembling his thoughts, “is  _ your guy _ trustworthy?”

Ah, and there’s that grin again, impossibly brightened when his idea is met with no resistance. Hinata Shouyou—one part angelic ray of brilliant sunshine, one part horny little devil hellbent on making only the highest quality of porn—manages to make his enthusiasm palpable through the air in Oikawa’s apartment.

“Yeah, he’s a friend! Here, I can show you some of his work.” Hinata stands from his chair and, after gathering their dirtied breakfast dishes to place in the sink (Oikawa really struck gold with this one, didn’t he?), he practically skips into the next room to find his laptop. 

“I have a slew of conditions,” Oikawa calls out after him, smirking at the  _ “Yeah, yeah” _ his partner drawls from the bedroom. 

This “friend” turns out to be someone Hinata met in Rio years ago, and yes, he does have quite the repertoire of footage on his website ranging from weddings to travel compilations to devious exploits in the bedroom. Hinata gives him a call, they discuss a few details, email large packets of legal documentation Oikawa insists upon reading every last word of, and a date is set. 

Three weeks from today, they’re having a quick weekend getaway at a lovely hotel in Rio de Janeiro, right before the start of the new volleyball season. 

“Okay,” Oikawa sighs and closes the lid of his own laptop, raising his arms in a leisurely stretch as he leans against the back of his couch. “Everything’s arranged.”

“Great!” Hinata reaches to place the laptop on the coffee table before draping himself over his lover’s lap. He smiles up at the ceiling. “I can’t wait.”

At this point, Oikawa admits to himself he’s excited, too. There’s a certain giddy anticipation behind the idea that someone is going to be filming their copulation in the near future, preserving the moment forever and ever.

“Nor can I. In any case, let’s focus on the time we have now,” he says, gently stroking his fingers against Hinata’s bright strands of hair. 

“I can do that.” Hinata beams.

🎥 🎥 🎥

It’s not until months later during the mid-season break that the couple finally snuggles up together on Hinata’s couch to watch the final result of their intimate film, the video queued up on the tv and a bottle of lube placed befittingly upon the coffee table. 

“You promise you haven’t peeked?” Oikawa asks, leering at his partner, who sits next to him on the cushion and scoots to wriggle himself against the brunette’s side. Grinning, he rests an arm over Hinata’s shoulders. 

“I promise I haven’t,” Hinata replies after making himself comfortable. “But you wouldn’t believe how hard it’s been to not. I’ve had the video for  _ months _ !”

Oikawa responds with a hearty chuckle. He’s sure he would have struggled himself if he was the one in possession of the footage all this time, but he certainly wouldn’t have looked until they were together. Probably. 

“What are you waiting for, then? Let’s watch.”

Hinata doesn’t need to be told twice, He taps the Play button on his remote, and they both settle against the plush backrest of the sofa. 

_ Painted in the radiant gold of sunset, against shimmering buildings adorning Rio’s winding shoreline through a large window framed by gossamer curtains, Hinata sweetly brushes his lips against those of his lover, as if trying to taste the flavor of the warm light dusting their soft, pliable creases. They’re seated on the edge of the bed in their hotel room, shirtless, with Oikawa massaging little circles into the well-defined shoulders of the man straddling his lap. Their kisses are slow, sensuous, pulling soft, breathy sighs and muffled smacks of disengaging suction into the small space between them. _

_ The image steadily zooms closer, close enough to see the soft feathers of individual eyelashes fluttering in the dreamy glow and the faint dappling of freckles embellishing Hinata’s skin. A muffled noise sounds somewhere in Oikawa’s throat when Hinata deepens the kiss, an exchange of tongues just barely visible between their mouths.  _

Lips parted ever so slightly, Oikawa stares through half-lidded eyes, their chocolate gaze focused on Hinata’s illuminated features through the screen. Stunning. Beautiful. His.

_ Fingers graze downward along the groove of Hinata’s spine to rest on his hips, and with a gentle squeeze, he’s drawn closer, chest-to-chest, hearts fluttering little whispers to each other a camera could never capture. Hinata slides a hand up the back of Oikawa’s neck, threading his own fingers through wispy locks of brown touched with just the right amount of product. With his new hold, he changes the angle, slotting their mouths together to consume Oikawa’s every breath, every moan. He sucks heavily on tongue and teeth and saliva, fully submerging himself in the hot wetness of desire. _

_ Oikawa rolls his hips upward to graze fabric against fabric, his busy mouth becoming more fervid, pressing, digging for more. Hinata drags his free hand down along his partner’s chest, pausing to graze circles around a nipple, teasing the puckered bud to further prominence. His mouth finally detaches itself from its entanglement to press butterfly kisses along Oikawa’s jawline, moving steadily to his neck, where he begins sucking a new bruise into existence over his pulse point. Oikawa’s head tilts back and to the side, lips reddened and swollen from their abuse, his breath coming in shaky exhales interspersed with little audible sighs. _

_ At a new angle, the camera tilts downward to follow Hinata’s hand as it moves away from the pectoral, digits rising and falling between hills of hard-earned muscle until reaching the fabric of Oikawa’s trousers, where he dips further to grasp and massage at stiff, heated flesh.  _

Warmth pooling between his legs, Oikawa mimics the motion, sliding a hand down to grip himself through his shorts. In his peripheral, he sees that Hinata is already a step ahead with a hand tucked beneath his underwear to fondle his balls. It’s funny—they’ve already lived through this exact scene, and yet with something as simple as a different perspective and tactful camera angles, it’s become another experience entirely.

_ Hands drift lower to knead at the plush mounds of Hinata’s rear, Oikawa flexing with each squeeze against his swelling manhood. Hinata begins to work his way lower, dragging lip and tongue and teeth across skin, following the valley trailing down Oikawa’s torso to his naval, where he pauses a moment to swirl his tongue around the divot. Lower he travels, the brunette’s hands sliding up his back as he does, until he reaches the hem of Oikawa’s pants. The fabric now a hindrance, he deftly loosens their fastenings before hooking his fingers around belt loops to draw the trousers lower.  _

_ Oikawa assists with this, lifting himself to allow his pants and undergarments over the curve of his ass, pulling his legs free of their sheaths. He moves himself further onto the mattress and leans back on his elbows, his unrestricted erection resting against the flat of his abdomen. Hinata lowers himself between his legs, leaning halfway onto the bed as he presses searing open-mouthed kisses to the inside of his thigh, his taint, his balls, up to the head of his cock, relishing every piece of him until finally, he slowly runs his tongue up its full length. Using a hand to adjust the angle, he presses a wet kiss against the flushed tip, smearing a thick bead of precum against his lips, before taking him into his mouth, sinking down its length all the way to its base.  _

_ A small smirk tugs at the corner of Hinata’s occupied lips when Oikawa throws his head back in pleasure, murmuring a quiet  _ “Fuck”  _ into the air, Adam’s apple shifting in the sunlight’s sheen against the skin of his throat. He waits a moment, then begins bobbing his head up and down, mouth squelching with spit and precum and sliding foreskin.  _

Oikawa’s hand is in his shorts now, tugging at his dick with slow, twisting strokes. 

“God, you’re hot,” Hinata breathes next to him, resting his head against his boyfriend’s shoulder. 

_ The hotel room’s space is filled with whispered  _ “oh’s”  _ and  _ “yes’s”  _ with each deep suck. Oikawa reaches to tangle his hand in Hinata’s hair in encouragement, his hips subtly gyrating into each oncoming push into the hot cavern of his lover’s mouth.  _

_ Hinata finally pulls away with a slick  _ pop _ , eyes roaming over the man he’s been steadily unraveling, appreciating the deep blush spreading from Oikawa’s chest to his cheeks, while he works to free himself of his own clothing. His thick, engorged cock bounces in the air as he kicks his pants aside, and he steps briefly out of frame to grab something from a nearby table.  _

_ Oikawa shifts even further back on the bed, dark eyes watching as Hinata returns to lay himself next to him, the redhead taking a moment to flick open the cap of a bottle of lube and coat his fingers with its contents. Hinata reaches down as Oikawa hooks a leg over his hips, brushing slick fingers against the other man’s entrance. Oikawa sighs and pulls his lover’s mouth to his own once more, one hand palming Hinata’s dick with languid strokes.  _

_ Hinata’s fingers tease, circle, then press into Oikawa’s heat, slowly massaging in one, then two digits. He twists and scissors and stretches the ring of his anus, fingers plunging deeper, further, until he finally swallows a sharp moan from the brunette’s mouth as he finds the sensitive bundle of nerves of his prostate, Oikawa’s hips bucking involuntarily forward.  _

_ “Shouyou,” Oikawa murmurs, his voice husky with need. Hinata pleasures his lover’s hole for a few more moments before removing his fingers. After one last kiss, he pushes himself up to settle between Oikawa’s legs, coaxing them further apart with a few nudges. The redhead coats his cock with a generous amount of lube, shifts forward, and aligns himself against his lover, pushing his head forward, slowly sinking deeper and deeper into Oikawa’s molten core. _

Both men have pushed their shorts down around their thighs. Upon hearing Oikawa’s guttural groan from the tv’s speakers, Hinata reaches forward to pick up the lube from the coffee table, squirting its contents into both his and his partner’s hand. 

They’re both stroking themselves with ardent vigor, slick flesh-on-flesh palpitations and panting echoing the lewd noises coming from the screen. 

_ Hinata’s thrusts are painstakingly slow at first, deliberate, calculated, ensuring his lover is fully relaxed under his control before picking up the pace. Oikawa cries out with each deep, pulsing intrusion of Hinata’s cock, his own erection thumping lightly with the movement as it weeps precum over his skin. _

_ The shot cuts to one of Hinata’s back, displaying ripples of muscle flexing and shifting, the clenching of his taut glutes with his undulations, the bouncing of Oikawa’s legs splayed to his sides with each hearty smack of skin. _

Oikawa has never seen this view before, and he doubts the image will ever leave his mind again.

_ Grunting, Hinata hooks an elbow under one of Oikawa’s knees and pushes forward for a sharper angle, pounding deeper and harder into his prostate as Oikawa’s keening becomes louder, more unhinged. The brunette pumps his own cock vigorously between them. _

_ They’re both moaning, chasing, lost in each other’s bliss. _

God, he’s so close.

There’s something to be said about seeing one’s own orgasm. Oikawa doesn’t care how loud or whiny the sob that comes out of his past-self’s lips is when he comes, the camera capturing a perfect profile of his head pressed backwards against the mattress, eyes glazed over, lips parted and twitching with each spurt of semen colliding with his torso. 

He feels Hinata shudder next to him, and he glances over to see his lover’s hand coated in white, his breath ragged, his eyes droopy and fixed on the image ahead. 

When he returns his attention to their film, Oikawa sees the exact same expression on Hinata’s sun-kissed features, his hips snapping forward with each ripple of his own pleasure, and he loses himself as his own dam of building heat overflows and spills onto his fist.

Coming down from their high, the couple watches as the video showcases them kissing softly, sweetly, before fading to black. 

“That was…”

“...incredible,” Oikawa finishes, lolling his head to the side to smile at Hinata, nothing but love and satisfaction in his gaze. The video had taken a sensual, intimate moment and managed to make it even more passionate. “I just might be watching it every night I’m without you.”

Hinata laughs at that, reaching to tug a few tissues from a nearby box to wipe their hands clean. “Me, too. Aren't you glad we tried something new?”

With fingers free of their sticky mess, Oikawa pulls Hinata into a kiss, lavishing his mouth with his tongue. “I am,  _ mi amor _ ,” he agrees after pulling away, lips slick with saliva, “although I certainly hope you aren’t finished for the night. I want a re-enactment.” 

With a grin, Hinata gives his boyfriend a shove to force him down onto the couch cushions. “I was hoping you’d want to,” he says as he climbs atop Oikawa, gazing down at him with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Besides, we need to start thinking about what we want to do for the sequel next year. This one was great, but there are  _ sooo _ many more options to add next time.”

“Next year?” Oikawa blinks up at his partner, a smile of his own spreading across his lips. “I’m afraid I’ve already settled on an idea for next year’s anniversary.”

Hinata cocks his head to the side. “Oh? What’s that?”

“I was thinking we could try skydiving.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to hit me up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Koocatoo) !


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